The Songs of Nightingales
by xcaliber234
Summary: From the noble houses of Cyrodiil to the rataway sewers. From a highborn girl searching for excitement to an accomplished thief in search of riches. From small market robberies to the greatest heists in history. But the real question is: Is she worthy to sing the songs of the Nightingale? Or will she just be another cutpurse on the streets? (Accepting OC profiles for future use)
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1:**__** In the beginning there was... a theft. **_

"Stop! Thief!" The Redguard merchant shouted as the assailant dashed into the crowded market place. Ducking in between stalls, bystanders and crates, the thief nimbly made their way through the markets of the Imperial City as it were like taking a stroll through a garden.

As they ran the thief thought to themselves that if anything the markets were just like a garden. With gems for flowers, fine rolls of silk for exotic ferns and purses for beehives filled with honey. The thief sidestepped a Bosmer, overlooking a variety of carpentry as the guards that now chased the thief began shoving people out of the way, sending them flying into other bystanders or crashing into stalls. The wood-elf who had been viewing the carpenter's wares was sent flying over the counter into the man, the wooden merchandise clattering to the ground.

The assailant bore the look of a typical thief, a pair of light, loose trousers. A cheap brown tunic over a white shirt. A pair of ruined but sturdy boots. And to give off the true look of a rouge; a torn brown hood to conceal their identity. Needless to say this thief knew how to look the part, as well as how to look plain enough to blend into the crowd if need be.

"Stop!" one of the guards called as he continued to make chase in his armour. There were at lest three of them now, all Imperial men donning Legion armour. As light as the armour was compared to the old Watchman armour, they were still no match for the nimble footpad's agility. The streets belonged to the people, and the people who knew how to navigate the living, breathing beast that was the Imperial City made the greatest of thieves.

The Thief ducked as a pair of Khajiit carried a large rug, each holding one end over their shoulder like a log. Nimbly the thief ducked under the rug and between the two Cat-Men, causing enough confusion between the two to have the stop right in front of the pursuing guards. The thief looked back and smiled as they watched the guards stumble into the carpet carrying men of Elsweyr, causing all five of them to crash to the ground. This would provide more than enough of a distraction.

Slowing down to a casual walk amongst the rest of the crowd, the Thief was slowly absorbed into the hundreds of people going about their business. Tall and pompous Elven Diplomats, rough and bearded Nordic mercenaries, quick-eyed scaly Argonian peddlers and patrols of armoured Imperial soldiers within the city's streets made for excellent camouflage. So long as one knew how to act, they could be a Talos worshipping Nord walking around the Summerset Isles and still remain unnoticed.

Ducking behind the wall of one of the larger shops, the thief took cover, catching their breath. From out of her pocket she pulled the item she had taken. A beautiful necklace with rubies and sapphires embedded in layers of golden metalwork. If they had been really trying, they might have snagged two of them. The Thief smiled, putting the necklace over their head and around their neck, enjoying the weight of wealth that now hung there.

Looking around to ensure that the coast was clear, the thief stepped out from cover, as they began to begin the walk back home. However they were stopped dead in their tracks as a grip of iron clamped onto their shoulder. They tried to struggle but found themselves facing another tall hooded figure. This one however did not have the looks of a thief, but of an assassin or spy. However the green cloak, leather armour and Imperial crest on the man's gauntlets was more than enough to give away that they were no rouge. He was an Imperial Ranger. One of the gloved hands of the Ranger went for the thief's hood, pulling back behind their head.

The long brown hair of the thief began fall down her back, her brilliant green eyes glowing in the morning sunlight. The Imperial girl couldn't have been older than eighteen, barely of age. Her face was not sunken in like the poorer thieves who resided in the harbour. Her clean soft face was that of a Noble girl, a lower kind, but Noble all the same.

The Ranger pulled his own hood back, revealing an Imperial man in his early twenties, a fine layer of facial hair on his face, short dark brown hair and eyes that matched that of the girl. He looked down on her with a look of disappointment.

"What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Artemis?" he asked, his grip on her shoulder softening slightly. Though he still held on hard enough that she could not get away.

The girl looked up, smiling at her elder brother.

"Trouble?" she asked. "Define trouble, Arren."

Her smile was sweet and innocent, her eyes however told a different story altogether, as they would continue to do so for a while to come.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2:**__** Home**_

Artemis sat within the foyer of the Watch House, her hands shackled and chained to the wall whilst two guardsmen were left to ensure that she did not move. A little over the top if anything, Artemis thought. But she remained thankful they had not thrown her in a cell, not like last time. She had spent a single night in a cell, thanks to her father pulling a few strings with the Watch. Needless to say she developed a natural dislike of confined, foul smelling bared up spaces. If anything it had made her thieving even better, the desire never to set foot in a cell again was a good motivation to be stealthier, move quicker or hide better.

From within the Watch Commander's office she heard the muffled voices of Commander Sidonis and Arren.

Despite the fact that he had turned her in, forcing her to return the necklace to the merchant, she was glad that he was there. Normally he would be away for months on end, wondering around the wilds of Tamriel. Needless to say it was hard with him not being there, but that was the case for families whose sons and daughters served in the Rangers Corps. He had been away for at least half a year now. He would never say anything about his work, though sometimes he might briefly reflect on the lands he visited, the kinds of people he interacted with. But as to what he did, he never spoke of that. Every time someone would try to inquire into the mysteries of his work, he would carry on as if the question had never surfaced in the first place.

Years back however, when Artemis was much younger, she would often find herself being awoken by night terrors, dancing shadows in the corners of her chambers or sometimes she had snuck away extra dessert that would keep her wide awake. Whenever this happened, she could never remember when he did, or whether he was even asked to, Arren would find his way to her bedside, a small lamp in hand. He would sit there for what seemed like hours telling her of expansive dry deserts that went on into the horizon, or great untouched woodlands of emerald green, with trees so tall they dwarfed the White Gold Tower.

His stories would always send her into a peaceful slumber, letting her dream of these faraway places where Arren had been. She often dreamed of adventuring out there herself by her brother's side. Often she would awake from the dreams with an unmeasurable amount of sadness, because not only was it a dream, but Arren would often be gone that morning, off on another adventure.

As she sat there she smiled to herself. As much as Arren would disappear without so much as a good bye, he always returned. And although Artemis didn't need his stories to lull her to sleep anymore, she continued to dream of seeing sights beyond her imagination, and she owed every peaceful sleep like that to her brother.

The door to the Watch Commander's office opened, with Arren standing in the doorframe, Commander Sidonis standing behind him. Sidonis was an elderly man, a veteran of both the Great War and serving in the Watch. His baldhead covered in scars and his thick grey eyebrows making him look like he was eternally scowling.

"Release her." He ordered, and one of the two guardsmen moved to unlock her shackles. As the iron released her wrists she rubbed them clean of the dust and grime that had gathered on those shackles from a variety of criminals who had had the pleasure of donning them in the past.

Arren turned to Sidonis once more, shaking his hand.

"Again, I thank you for this Commander," he said.

"Normally I would ask to make sure it doesn't happen again," the old Commander said as he looked from the ranger to Artemis, "but from her track record I can say that'd be just a waste of my breath." He finished as he stepped back from Arren, closing the door to his office behind him. The two watchmen who had guarded Artemis left for the barracks, leaving the brother and sister alone.

Arren sighed, rubbing his face with his gloved hand.

"You know," he said, "If I were bothered to keep track on how much I've had to pay that man in bribes I'm sure I'd have enough to send you to that academy in Daggerfall."

"At least I wouldn't be getting into trouble here." She said happily as she stood up.

"Yeah, you'd just be stealing a ring from some princess, who doesn't take bribes," he scolded, "You know there are some places that cut off the hands of thieves?"

"True," Artemis replied as she began to make her way out the door. "But that was outlawed in the Empire by Martin Septim right before he died since the Champion of Cyrodiil was a thief himself." She said as they stepped out into the street once more, quickly enveloping herself into the crowd.

Arren briskly followed her out the door, keeping pace with her as they made their way through the mess of men, elves and beasts.

"That's a matter of debate," he said and grabbed her by sleeve. "but that's not the point." He dragged her out of the crowd and into an alley between two buildings where the crowds did not walk for fear of thieves.

"Will you get your hands off me?" Artemis said, swatting her brothers hands away. "I'm not a child!"

"You're seventeen, I'm pretty sure that means you're a child." Arren retorted.

Before he could continue, from out of the shadows of the alley a Khajiit with dirty brown fur and black stripes approached them, wearing a large torn cloak.

"Pardon me," he said. "But could Khajiit offer you skooma? Finest in city." He asked, pulling a few vials out of his pocket. Without even looking at him Arren revealed the Imperial crest on his gauntlets, causing the Khajiit to back away very quickly before running back into the shadows.

Arren sighed once more, pacing back in forth in front of Artemis as she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

"One day you're going to steal something, and neither me nor mother or father will be there to save you. You know that right?" she looked away from him, refusing to meet his gaze. "You'll go to prison. I wonder how long you could last in a real dungeon."

"If you're so keen to find out, then let me get arrested." She mumbled.

Arren stopped pacing and looked at her. "Is that really what you want? Get put in a cell for a few months just to spite your brother? Do you have any idea how childish you're being?" she continued to look away from him. "You have it very lucky _dear _sister. You were born into a wealthy family, one that loves you I might add! You never have to worry about working a day in your life and suitors are literally lining up outside the house for your hand!"

"Did you ever think for a second that I don't want any of that?" Artemis argued, sliding her back down the wall to sit on the cobbled ground. "Did you ever think that for a second I don't care about family riches? About suitors or never having to work?" She looked up at him, her eyes as fierce as his. "I'm not some stuck up, tiara wearing, harp playing princess from Highrock!"

"You don't want any of that?" Arren almost shouted, though he was loud enough that people walking by the alley turned their heads, though they looked away with boredom. "If you don't want any of that, then why do you tell the guards who your father is each time you're caught? Why do you tell them that I'm a ranger? If you don't want any of that, then why bother coming home each time? Why don't you just leave?" When he was finished Arren found himself panting. He hadn't gotten that angry in a long time.

Artemis continued to look away from him, his anger was a terrible thing when stoked. She hated seeing him like that, when his anger rose like that it made him into another person, it was almost like he was a raging dragon sometimes, and not her brother.

Arren sighed; he looked away from her shaking his head as he began to slowly pace again. "I'm…" he began, though he couldn't quite get the words out. "…I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Artemis interjected, shaking her own head. "I'm a pain, I know."

"No," Arren said, approaching her and crouching to be on her level. "You're not a pain, you're just… confused, I think." He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently this time, the way a brother should. "Look, not matter what you wish, or however far away you are, I will always be there to help you." He lowered his head, trying to meet her gaze. "Okay?"

She looked at him, her eyes watering slightly. Her smile was so soft and full of youth Arren might have thought she was the same little girl who he told stories to when she could never sleep. Without warning she pushed herself from her position to embrace him, tears falling form her cheeks and onto his shoulder. Arren quickly returned the embrace, holding her close to him.

"I've missed you big brother." She said quietly.

"I've missed you too, sister." He said, his hand stroking the back of her head.

They sat there like that for a while, just enjoying their embrace, one that they scarcely got to share. The crowds continued to walk by, some occasionally glancing over, others not even noticing them at all. Before long Arren pulled away, He was always the last to show emotion, and first to pull out of an embrace. It's not that he didn't care, he was just reserved, it was a part of his nature, and his training as a ranger.

He looked at his little sister and smiled. "Now I won't tell father about this, but you've got to promise me something." He said.

Artemis' smile dropped and her expression faded. "What is it?"

"You have to promise that whilst I'm back in the city," he said as he stood, holding out a hand to help her up. "You're not going to cause any more trouble." As she reached to take his hand he pulled it away. "Deal?"

Artemis rolled her eyes for a second, before meeting the gaze of her brother once again. There was something about the look that he gave her that just made her want to say yes, to promise him something that was so hard for her.

"Are you going to stay for a while?" she asked. Arren stopped to think on his answer briefly. He never liked getting his sister's hopes up on empty words.

"For as long as I can." He replied. Artemis thought on it for a while. But so long as she had her big brother with her, even for as little as the rest of the day, she would be happy.

"Deal." She said with a smile, one which Arren returned before offering his hand, which she took with full confidence this time.

The walk home had been in silence, at least that is how Arren wanted it to have been. He would have liked nothing more than a quiet walk home in the fading twilight, the emptying of the streets and the silence always filled him with peace. Instead he found himself, as always, being asked relentless questions of his travels. If it wasn't where he went, it was what did he do, or whom did he meet, she even had the nerve to ask whether he had killed anyone. The young ranger knew that his sister was not a fool, and she more than likely figured out that he had indeed killed people almost every time he went away. But still he continued to reply with the same answer.

"I can't tell you that." He said this over and over with every question.

"Did you see any dragons?" she asked lazily, not expecting any answer.

"You know I didn't see any." He answered just as lazily.

They walked in silence, very briefly before the girl spoke once more.

"Alright," she spoke as she turned around to face her brother, though she continued to walk backwards. Normally that would be a very foolish thing in the Imperial streets, but the early evening offered next to no crowds. "I get one question, and you have to answer this one, truthfully."

The ranger sighed once more. "Fine." He said.

"Did you go home?" she asked, and the two of them stopped. They stood there in the street for what felt like forever as the questions floated in the air between them.

They were Imperial, this was an undeniable fact. But they didn't always live in Cyrodiil. They had been born and raised in the harsh cold northern province of Skyrim, in the city of Whiterun. Their family had moved to the Imperial city years ago, when Arren was in his teens and Artemis was only around eight years old. But for the both of them there was no forgetting the harsh cold of the north. As harsh as it had been, it was home.

"No," he said solemnly, almost sadly. "things there seem to be pretty quiet, nothing much going on."

"I thought one of the Jarls up there was trying to make pushes against the Empire." Artemis inquired.

"He is, but honestly I think he just all talk. He's a war veteran, getting old and bitter. Honestly even if he did try something he'd get a little more than he bargained for."

Artemis raised a brow in curiosity. "How so?" she asked.

Arren simply smiled at her. "Because I'd be the first one over there ready to throw him back into the snow."

The two of them shared a small chuckle before continuing their walk home. Artemis knew that her old homeland would be in good hands with her brother watching over it.

When they finally arrived at the house the sun had long set beyond the horizon. After waiting for their knocking to be heard a young Ohmes-Raht Khajiit opened the door. Her tail flicked and she gave a small but heartfelt smile to Artemis and bowed her head slightly. Niretey was a servant employed by Artemis' parents, along with her father, Suleiran, a Cathay-Raht Khajit who served as a guard for the house as well as a decent cook in the winter when he wasn't shedding his fur.

The two Khajiit had served Artemis' parents for years, back when they had first moved to the Imperial City. Artemis and Arren's father found them living in the alleyways of the Imperial markets. Niretey was no older than Artemis was at the time, whilst Suleiran was large and in his prime. They had found that not only were they capable employees, but loyal ones, Suleiran having put himself between a robbers dagger many times, though he had killed more than his share of would be criminals, most were smart enough to run away at the mere sight of one of the famed Jaguar-Men of Elsweyr.

"My lady," Niretey said as she opened the door for her. "I trust your day was well?"

"You could say that." Artemis smiled as she walked in.

It was good to be home. The front doors opened up to the main foyer, which branched off to a set of stairs to the left leading to the bedrooms and offices, a hallway off to the right that lead to the main lounge and dining room and a final corridor leading straight ahead that lead to kitchen.

As Artemis made her way in, the young Khajiit looked to the ranger as he too walked in, lowering his hood, she smiled as he did so.

"Welcome home Master Arren," she said as she bowed to him as well, her tail flickering behind her back. "It is good to see you alive and well once more."

Arren smiled and bowed his own head to her. "Thank you Niretey, it is good to see you too."

Her tail flicked frantically for a second as she tried to suppress a large smile.

"Your mother is currently hosting guests in the lounge room. Shall I inform her that you're home?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you." Arren said with a nod and the young Khajiit bowed slightly before making her way up stairs.

As Arren waited in the foyer with his sister, he gazed upon the family crest that remained on the wall, carved into the stonework. A heater-shaped shield with a pair of arrows crossed over it, the sigil of clan True-Shot. Theirs was not a very old house, only formed with the past few centuries. Artemis liked to say that they were descended from Talon True-Shot, an Imperial who was a hero of the Ebonheart Pact during the Interregnum. Arren found the idea amusing, though there were many who shared names with famous individuals and yet had no relation to them.

Soon Niretey returned, motioning for them to follow her into the lounge room. As they entered, Arren smiled at the sight of the old roaring fire place that sat in the corner, surrounded by tall chairs It was here that many times he found himself as a young man telling his sister of his stories, and almost always having to carry her up the stairs to her chambers. Such memories were scarce on his mind when he was out in the field. As much as he would love to reflect more on them, such thoughts would ultimately cloud one's judgement when on the job.

As they approached, they noticed the figure standing in front of the fire, facing the dancing orange flames. Heads turned from the seemingly occupied chairs that surrounded the fire. Nobles, merchants, even a man dressed in Legion armour. It seemed that their mother was keeping company. Arren looked to his sister, who smiled and nudged him forward.

The figure who stood by the fire turned to look at Arren. She was around the same height as Artemis, with long greying hair tied behind her head. Her face was beginning to show the signs of her elder years, but her brown eyes seemed to shine with youth. She wore a simple blue dress, clearly an expensive one but not something one would go around wearing at parties. This was Sona True-Shot, Arren and Artemis' mother. She smiled warmly at the sight of her son and she had to stop her self from running to meet him, her arms outstretched.

"Arren." She said as she approached him, and he her.

"Mother." He replied as they embraced.

It had been at least six long months since he had departed and now her son was home, she thought to herself. Even if he had to leave the second after they parted, she would be grateful to the gods for letting them see and embrace him once again. As they parted they stood there for a moment, they looked each other up and down.

"You've gotten taller." She said with a small smile, she however scoffed as she ran her hand along across his cheeks. "Out of all the things that they teach you out there, they don't teach you to shave?" she asked.

Arren smiled as he lightly grabbed his mothers hand and pulled it away.

"I rode for a week to get here, can't say it was the most important thing on my mind."

"That's no excuse to neglect personal grooming my son." She teased lightly as she leaned in for another hug. As they did so Artemis couldn't help but look to Niretey and the two of them shared a knowing smile.

Their mother had been in quite a state since Arren had last left. Everyday she would make her way to the temple and pray to the Divines to protect her son. Though she would never admit it, she carried an amulet of Talos that she hid under her shirt as she secretly prayed to the god of war to protect her son.

When mother and son parted, Sona looked to her daughter, and motioned her to join them.

"Looks like you've brought trouble home with you again." She joked and the three of them shared a brief chuckle. Sona turned to her guests. "My friends, I would like to introduce you to my son, Arren." Her guests stood to greet the eldest of the True-Shot siblings. The first was a Breton, dressed in fine blue clothes. "Arren, this Amaund Motierre, a friend of mine from school." Sona introduced. "Also a member of the Elder Council

"It is a pleasure to meet you Arren," he said, a hand out stretched. "Your mother has told me a great deal about you."

"Pleasure." Arren replied simply, he never really enjoyed the presence of politics.

The man donning Imperial armour stepped forward to shake Arren's hand without introduction. He was a surprisingly tall Imperial, with short black hair and a rough beard he was at least a decade Arren's senior. "Captain True-Shot." He said plainly. "It's been a while."

Arren almost begrudgingly took the man's hand. "Legate Quintillius, not long enough it seems." The two of them stood, their, holding each other's hands in what seemed like a firm grasp as neither one of them took their eyes of the other.

Artemis looked between them, almost expecting to come to blows. Perhaps it was the fact that Arren was a ranger, she thought to herself. Despite being some of the Empire's most accomplished agents, Rangers were widely regarded with suspicion and mistrust, especially amongst the Legion. Artemis always wondered whether it was a rivalry, or perhaps the Legion was merely jealous of the Emperor's favour of the Rangers.

Regardless, the two men went their separate ways as a few more guests made Arren's acquaintance, though it seemed he always kept a weathered eye on the Legate, as if he expected the man to draw his sword and starting swinging it around like a mad man.

Artemis leaned over to Niretey. "I think it's best we make our grand escape." She whispered.

"I couldn't agree with you more my lady." She said with a smile as Artemis stepped forward.

"My lords and ladies, mother," she paused a moment. "brother, I will be retiring now, I wish you all a pleasant evening." The crowd nodded their good nights, with Arren giving her a small but noticible pleading look that just screamed: 'Don't leave me alone with these people!' Artemis merely offered her brother a smile as she departed with Niretey to her chambers. Unbeknownst to her, the eyes of the Legate followed her as she went. However whilst it went unknown to Artemis, nothing escaped the watchful gaze of the Ranger.


End file.
